This was originally intended to be a comment, but I thought I might as well post it here.

An area popular for the manufacturing of cricket bats and other cricket paraphernalia has recently displayed a vicious fervour for flaunting their bat swinging skills in the form of bludgeoning innocent people to death. I am of course talking about the recent double murder that occurred earlier during the week. Apparently the two brothers were suspected of being thieves and this was enough for a large crowd to accumulate and rain down blows on these two ‘robbers’ until they were dead.

If someone in any other part of the world was suspected of being a thief, it’s people would do what any group of civilised people would do: call the police, not procure an armament of sticks and stones to batter two children with and then proceed to bind them upside down in the town square; taking pride in their achievement. A trophy kill.

The accompanying video(s) of the incident (which could only be filmed by someone subhuman) is some of the most chilling footage one can ever see. The people hammering down a fusillade of blows to the blood drenched humanoid figures on the floor (arms raised in defense) land each blow with pure vigour. Intense expressions on their faces. Not even a shadow of a doubt that what they are doing is wrong, and that ladies and gentlemen, is the saddest part.

Oh wait, no it isn’t. The saddest part would be the large police presence, standing about looking at the fireworks display. They probably went home and sat down to a well cooked iftar, munching on pikoray and downing rooh afzah. Not a care in the world.

Speaks for itself

I don’t really know where this neanderthalesque behaviour originates from but I can take a fair guess in saying shake these things about in a can and you’ll come up with the answer: Poverty, religion, illiteracy, lack of confidence in the authorities, stupidity, mob culture.

I still don’t know what the actual story is, I’d really like to know what exactly happened that day. Would such a large crowd accumulate to beat two suspected robbers to death with such conviction without any sort of proof of their crime? I wouldn’t think so. Maybe I’m being naive. It is Pakistan after all.

‘Nothing is impossible’ – Usually followed by a story about an amputee swimming the English Channel, a Nigerian with no shoes winning a marathon or a cancer victim coming out first in a kayak race. While I concede that this saying is sort of inspiring and makes me wonder if I can beat the world record for most ejaculations performed in twenty four hours, I’d like to say that it mainly gives people false hope.

People fueled by this quotation often get all pumped, and realise they were horribly deceived when they crash and burn by the end of it. Things don’t work like that in the real world I’m afraid and you’d be better off for it.

‘He wants to have his cake and eat it too’ – I’d like to skewer the person who thought up of this abomination with a rusty pitchfork. What else is cake for? Shoving up your arse? It’s for eating you huge tool. I don’t know if this guy used cake ingredients as lubricant to please himself, but yes, this quotation makes no sense and is as useful as a herring. We all know how useless herrings are.

‘Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery’ – Fuck that, I’d rather not be a victim of personality theft. I’ve met so many people who regurgitate phrases I use, discover the type of music I’m listening to etc. and then pass all of that off as their own personal image to make themselves seem cool even though they don’t particularly like the art/music/whatever. It’s downright disgusting, and while that quotation exists, it brings my pee to a boil to see someone use absolute standard REGIONAL words I use (that they can’t possibly use because it’s essentially slang which you pick up off the street).

I wholeheartedly agree

‘Honesty is the best policy’ – Okay, come on. I’ve tried this out personally and according to my calculations using several methodologies such as Bayesian logic, this quotation is a steaming pile of cock. Everyone knows to get anywhere in the real world you have to be willing to step on a few fingers.

Picture this, say your wife asks you how her hair looks and you think it looks like a cats anus – which one would go down better? ‘It looks fine, (dear)’ or ‘It looks like shit’?

It looks fine, dear.

The grass is always greener on the other side – I’m sure that a billionaire somewhere out there is bawling his eyes out at the mere thought of living in your 2×2′ room.

Can't stand thinking about how awesome his life would be if he was you.

‘What’s up’ – This is without a doubt the most redundant term in existence today. What’s up has gone from meaning ‘What have you been up to this fine evening?’ to ‘Respond to me with ‘Nothing much’ so we can get on with this conversation’.

Although I could basically go on forever, I’d rather stop here before I pop an artery in rage.

One of the most pointless things I’ve ever seen on the internet are politically oriented blogs. Each one of these blogs may have a name that is different, but the content is always the same – a rant of sorts shamelessly pushed on an audience which couldn’t care less about the topic in question. I don’t know about you lot, but if I ever once in a blue moon decide to trawl through blogs at random or visit a blog with some decent non-political content on it I’d rather not read a pamphlet on your opinion of Section 27-C of the Pakistan constitution.

Fuck off!

This is especially worse when the pedantic prick of a blogger decides to give us his (or worse, her) opinion on matters that we have already had our heads hammered into a pulp over, such as the Taliban or whatnot. Give it a break you cocksucker, we’ve seen it on the news already!

That reminds me of something else that’s been getting on my tits lately. I’m not in Pakistan at the minute, but has anyone noticed the recent upsurge in the amount of politically charged talk shows going on T.V. nowadays? Every time, every fucking time I switched on the T.V. there was some smug no name bald waistcoat wearing vagina sitting in a cheap leather seat offering his opinion on how he or she can help save the country from it’s impending doom. Give it a break like.

On to part II – Girl bloggers. I usually don’t have a problem with them, but I can’t imagine how fucking silly they can get. Combine this with the political blog post fad, and you’ve got an instant recipe for disaster. I cannot express in words how much I dislike these posts.

On most of these blogs, you’ll find a ridiculous mish mash of fucked up topics they talk about. They’ll switch from lighthearted posts to straight edged butch, horn rimmed glasses, cropped hair political activist posts in a second. I’ve got an idea for all you girls out there, keep the theme of your blogs consistent. Don’t give us cool posts one second and serious posts the next, that’s just no fun. Just blog about normal stuff – heels, shoes, make up. That sort of thing.

That’s the least of my concerns though. My major issue with Paki girl bloggers is their tendency to post absolute crap on their blogs day in and day out. By absolute crap I mean highly abstract material which makes no sense whatsoever, and is about as useful as posting an in joke on a blog which only your friends would get. Here’s something I picked out at random

Fuck you right in the ear bitch

Furthermore, on almost every Paki girls blog I’ve been on – they consistently complain about being harassed by males in public and making a conscious effort to divert their efforts to flirt with them and whatnot while walking through a marketplace or whatever the fuck. This is absolutely not true and I’ve never seen it happen. I personally think they just love to tell themselves they’re really hot and desired by the average joe on the street wearing blue jeans.

While I do concede that there are some pervy types out there, it’s not as bad as you people make it out to be and you don’t have to act all high and mighty about it like every guy is out there to get you if your dupatta moves so much as an inch across your chest to reveal a slight contour that I’d have to take a fucking protractor out to measure.

This is not an opinion,
I’m simply stating a fact,
If you don’t agree with me,
You can lick my sack.

It’s not a world view,
I’m not taking a punt,
If you don’t agree with me,
You’re stupid cunt

– Shotgunfacelift (God, and former toilet attendant.)

Every girl on here gets a couple of comments on their blogs no matter what the fuck they post. They could post a picture of a steaming turd and still get a million views and five billion responses. Why? because they’re girls. Girls on the internet are a rare, dying breed. On various girl-blogs I’ve been on, I’ve been surprised to see images harvested from the internet and slapped on a post receive hundreds of comments. Really, what the fuck?

If any of you girls would like to put my theory to the test, set your profile picture as you with a bit of cleavage and tit showing. Keep a neutral look on your face, be nonchalant, as if it wasn’t done on purpose. You’ll double or triple your daily views, guaranteed.

Many of you might be thinking to yourselves ‘Oooh, well, Shakespeare isn’t a girl. Dan Brown isn’t a girl. Why do people read their stuff? Nanana.’ That’s true, but you’re missing an extremely important point. They didn’t write on the internet. According to my calculations, girls on the street have a value of 1 Gi, whereas on the internet, the average girl with bad hair, acne and no friends will have have a value of roughly 3000 Gi. Gi is the SI unit for girl value, before you ask. So yes, their Gi is multiplied by a factor of roughly 3000.

The next time you decide to comment on that Cyanide and Happiness comic strip some girl put on her blog, think again. Support original bloggers like me, and go out on the streets, torch and pitchfork in hand – and bring these bloggers down.

It’s so common nowadays. Even greetings have become clichés. You get things like ‘What’s up’ which have predetermined answers. ‘Nothing much’ says the recipient followed by ‘You?’ – ‘Same here’.

What purpose does that serve? Skip the introductions, get right to it. Don’t make me wade through ten minutes of superficial rubbish each time we meet.

You know you do it.

Back when I was in school I’d always get the tried and trusted ‘What did you do over the weekend?’ – I mean, really. I don’t know if it was just me, but I wouldn’t get up to much, even if I did – would you really want to hear about it? People expect you to have all these grand stories to questions like those. If I was brutally honest, I’d tell them I slept, watched a film, sat on my lazy arse and did fuck all. Do you really want to hear that? Do you?

Small talk always seems to be self terminating. Like, for example – ‘The weather is nice, isn’t it?’ – That ‘isn’t it?’ at the end basically implies that you have declared it to be nice. All I can possibly do is agree with you if I don’t want to come off as a pedantic wanker and go ‘No, define nice’ or some shit like that.

Other examples would include me saying something like ‘So yeah, yesterday I went down to the cinema and watched <film>’ to which the other wanker would say ‘Cool’, ‘Nice’ or ‘Mhm’. What potential does that have conversation? Of course it’s fucking cool. Everything is cool nowadays.

By the way, cool is such a redundant term, stop using it. It’s extremely fucking lame and makes you sound like you’ve been time warped straight from the 90’s, back when chewing bubblegum, denim shorts and wearing a baseball cap backwards were ‘cool’.

In conclusion:

Don’t ask me about how my studies are. Don’t ask me about how my day went (It went shitty, you know that already). Don’t ask me about what I think of the weather. Don’t ask me about what I did over the weekend. Unless you actually care about what I did.

Be tactful.

Instead of asking what I did over the weekend, tell me what YOU did over the weekend. That’ll get me talking about what I did. It’s called conversation you cocksuckers. Learn how to do it or sew your mouths shut.

I’ve tried, on numerous occasions, to wolf down an item from the deep only to feel like utter death afterwards. Maybe I don’t have the stomach for it or maybe it’s just plain old unadulterated shite, and I’m leaning towards the latter opinion. Many a time, when out with friends or somesuch and after them having ordered the dreaded ‘Sea food platter’, I’ve exclaimed ‘You want me to eat that?!’

Humans weren’t meant to eat lobsters, crabs and other such critters. Before the advent of the modern trawler or fishing equipment, we didn’t even know what a lobster was. And it’s no different now. Lobsters are portrayed as a gourmet meal most of the time, in films only the rich cunts get to eat lobster in a fancy restaurant sat across the table from their hot trophy wives. Apparently the restaurant which supplies the aforementioned gets extra points if you choose your own live lobster out of a fancy aquarium type deal and see it getting cooked right before your eyes.

That’d work for me, if they wanted me to have my own vomit as a first course.

Wait wait, you want me to EAT that?

Why seafood sucks hairy arse:

There’s nothing to eat in a lobster or other crustacean! I mean, really. Crack open a crab and at most you’ll get a mouthful of foul crab meat. Is that really worth it?

Three words: Shark fin soup. Excuse me while I yak my intestines out.

Hates you.

Allergies. Seafood contains absolutely deadly allergens. If you didn’t know about that, you could find yourself on the floor of an elaborate delicatessarie with a bit of dolphin in your mouth.

Mercury. Seafood contains tons of this stuff. On the flip side, maybe you’d need the Mercury so you’d be crazy enough to eat the stuff.

Fish eyes. Fish have nasty eyes, end of story.

Aww, isn't it cute? Love the eyes!

Choking hazards: Ever eaten a fish only to get a mouthful of scaly shite and paper thin bones in your mouth? Yeah.

Kills stuff. Come on, fishing has advanced scientifically to such a level, that governments have to apply fishing limits to certain areas. Lets see you look that dolphin the eyes next time you’re down at Sea World.

Autumn is the crusty anus of the seasonal body, it should be disposed with immediately. God must want us to feel a tremendous amount of pain each year to have caused such an abomination to descend upon his people.

Going through autumn is the equivalent of excreting diahrrea through your pee hole while simultaneously ejecting projectile vomit.

I don’t want to walk through mountains of multicoloured leaves, bark and a plethora of other annoying materials for another second. It’s like mother natures idea of a fucking obstacle course, and I’m not seeing the humour. That guy was right when he wrote ‘Mother Nature is a whore’. She’s a whore of the worst kind. I bet she loves anal.

All these Disney fairytales we have shoved down are throats lead to posts like these. There are no birds that chirp and mate, people don’t play with the leaves. It’s just a clusterfuck beyond all proportions.

Lets see you love autumn after you’re raking your backyard while you sweat like a paedophile in a playground. Let’s see how much you enjoy autumn then. Let’s see you drive through a pile of leaves and get your car plastered in random shit and mud.

Shitty leaves, everywhere. Moist, mossy outgrowths on the aforementioned. A distinct stink throughout the air of bark, fungi and damp animals.

As you may have heard, scientists are going hardcore on next generation Sleep Research this coming year (Shit just got real) and my God is this my dream job. Apparently you get paid by the hour to sleep in a very comfortable, absolutely silent setting while being hooked up to a variety of machines. (while being surrounded by hot nurses with big tits.)

An actual photo from a real sleep research clinic. I wish I was joking. 'Patient: Doc, I've got a pain in my.. crotchal region, kiss it better please.'

Who, on the face of the planet wouldn’t consider such a lucrative offer? Being paid to sleep, God. I know what I’m doing this summer. Maybe I’ll be able to get a nurse to join in on the research too.

I’ve been blogging for just about a week now. My journey into the world of blogs has come to a close and the results are in. I now feel like I’m in a position to comment about blogs and bloggers in general but I thought I’d just start with a good, old fashioned blanket statement (or generalisation) and announce that: ‘All bloggers are losers’

I’ll tell you how I reached this conclusion, or discovered this fact, or solidified my hypothesis very slowly and very methodically – so by the end of it, you’ll agree with me and will hastily scramble to your Dashboard to annihilate your blog from the ‘Blogosphere’. (My god, I fucking hate buzz words.)

Irony at it's finest

The first time I made my blog I couldn’t help but feel slightly weird. Why was I doing it? Why should I write things for other people to read? Is it for myself? Is it for everyone else? I couldn’t really reach a solid answer. So why the fuck am I still doing it? I don’t know to be honest.

So yes, I banged away right at it and churned out my first blog post – Little did I know I was about to enter a haze of obsessive Stat checking, having sudden urges to pop on my laptop and see if I got any comments or if I wasn’t doing the last two things, I’d be browsing other blogs, leaving comments and making sure I linked back to my blog to get the odd extra view.

It made me feel like a loser.

But hey, aren’t all bloggers losers? I can’t possibly see a justifiable reason for posting on my piece of shit blog, or commenting on your piece of shit blog. I don’t want to hear about what you’ve been upto, I don’t want to see your crappy drawings or read your crappy poetry. I don’t want to read your ‘About’ section which claims you’re ‘crazy’ and ‘unique’. I don’t want any of it.

So yeah, readers, why do you post stuff on your blog when:

(a) Nobody is going to read it, most probably; putting all your efforts to waste: I could be the best fucking writer in the world. I could be fucking Shakespeare reincarnated but unless I had the blog whoring skills to go along with it, I’d be another steaming turd in the blogosphere.

(b) Even if someone did, they wouldn’t care: I actually put some effort into some of my blog posts. I’ll admit. I’ve edited music, drawn stuff. Proof read, everything. And what do I get in return? An average of 64 views a day. Shitfuck.

And that wasn’t meant to be a stab at homosexuals or anything. I love you guys. (I just don’t want to be dubbed a homophobe, really.)

People who set their blogs to private need to be hung, drawn and quartered. Why? Why, you asked? I’ll tell you why:

Blogs are meant to be read. I don’t see any other purpose for having a blog. I personally have created this blog so I can post content for other people to read (and therefore waste their precious time reading this rubbish) and for the fringe benefit of becoming ultra famous some day. (Alright, alright. I know this is never going to happen, let me rest in peace, please.)

So yes, if blogs are meant to be read, why do some people find it necessary to effectively hide their blogs from public view? I thought long and hard about this last night and came up with the following arguments for and against this phenomenon.

Against:

Defeats the purpose of having a blog.

It makes you look like a pompous arsehole

It makes you look like a dickhead

For:

Nothing

Actually, I did come up with one reason, maybe they want to share their content only with specific users – but that makes you a faggot anyways.

Conclusion:

Having a blog set to private is not cool. It makes you look like an utter twat. You want to make people feel special for having access to your blog don’t you? You want to make them feel like glitterati, walking down the fucking red carpet while photographers surround them bombarding them with camera flashes; taking pictures from every angle.